Reed's Armory -- A Malcolm Reed Fanfiction Archive ..

Title: Valentines

Author: Mareel

Author's e-mail: [email protected]

Author's Web site: http://www.geocities.com/bdebpr

Fandom: Enterprise

Pairing: Archer/Reed

Rating: R

Category: Slash

Summary: Malcolm stumbles across an unexpected Valentine from Jon.

Comments: This is just a bit of sweet fluff, no nutritional value.

Archived to Reed's Armory on 04/26/2003.

"What the...ouch! Bloody hell!" Malcolm Reed muttered as he stumbled while trying to make his way to the lavatory. The cabin was dark; Jon was still deeply asleep on the far side of the narrow bunk, and he hadn't wanted to wake him.

Jonathan Archer had let himself into Malcolm's quarters late the night before, after returning from a final diplomatic visit to the planet they had been orbiting for the past week. He had tried to move quietly, but the captain had apparently forgotten that his armoury officer tended to sleep on high alert when his lover was away on some 'probably dangerous' planet without him. Archer's stealthy attempt to slip into bed undetected had been a rather spectacular failure from the tactical officer's point of view. Malcolm had pounced silently on the intruder, and quickly had the older man pinned beneath him on the bed, Jon's gasp of surprise silenced by his lover's searing kiss.

Sleep had come considerably later, and though Malcolm had an early shift, there was no reason not to let the captain catch a few extra hours of rest before he was due on the bridge.

"Malcolm? Are you okay?" called a sleepy voice from the bed.

"I'm fine," replied Malcolm, "just bloody fine. Except for a bashed toe and bruised shin from tripping over god knows what in the middle of the floor. One would think the captain of a starship would appreciate the need for tidiness in..."

The rest of the tirade was lost in the sounds of the shower, and Jonathan knew better than to try to continue the conversation. It was time for either a peace offering or a strategic retreat. Never one to choose retreat until diplomatic efforts had failed, he pulled on the blue boxers he found discarded by the bed and began heating water for tea.

"Malcolm, I'm sorry for leaving things in the way--I should have put that somewhere else, but I wanted you to find it before you went on-shift this morning."

Jon gestured to his half-dressed lover to sit next to him on the couch and handed him a cup of breakfast tea.

There was a silence as their eyes met and the dark-haired man accepted the tea and the apology. He could never stay upset with Jon for long; they had been lovers for almost two months now, and the joy he felt about their relationship was sometimes overwhelming. They were so different from one another in many ways, but he knew they both wanted very much to make this partnership work. It wasn't only about sex--though that was generally spectacular--but about the give and take of everyday living, which was sometimes a bit more challenging.

"Aren't you even a little curious about what you stumbled over?" Jon asked.

"Of course... So what is it, love?" Malcolm responded, between sips of tea and the distracting little kisses his lover was bestowing on his neck and chest. "Your laundry, perhaps? Clothing from the away mission? Throw it in the chute here, if you like--get things off the floor at least."

Jon retrieved the offending item, and handed over the bulky package. "No laundry. Sorry to disappoint you," he said, laughing, "though I believe there's some of that on the floor by the bed if you're interested. Actually, I think you were responsible for that bit of clutter last night. It didn't seem to bother you too much then..."

"I was a little preoccupied at the time," Malcolm replied with a half-smile. "An incredibly gorgeous man had just appeared in my bed, and I needed to make sure it was really you. One never can be too complacent about the dangers of alien intruders, you know."

"Ever-vigilant Malcolm! Always the tactical officer. And I suppose you decided it was really me after all?"

"Yes, definitely yourself, everything in good order. Though I wouldn't mind making another check to be sure..." Malcolm carefully scanned his lover's face and body, his gaze lingering here and there, before he reluctantly returned his attention to the box Jon had handed him.

"My pleasure," Jon replied, blushing a bit under the scrutiny. He smiled as he watched the skilled fingers trying to carefully remove the package wrappings without damaging them. "Malcolm, it's not like you have to disarm the thing--go ahead and rip into it! Do you always unwrap your presents so meticulously?"

"I suppose so...though I can't say as I've ever had to unwrap a lot of presents. Yourself excepted, of course," he added with a snicker. "Though, as you just pointed out, I wasn't terribly concerned last night about what became of the wrappings on THAT lovely package."

"That's true, you were pretty efficient, not that I'm complaining... But what about Christmas presents? When you were a kid? Didn't you just want to tear into them as soon as you came downstairs on Christmas morning?" asked Jon, always curious about the past his lover seldom mentioned.

"My family didn't make a very big thing of Christmas presents, and there was certainly no 'tearing into' anything. My grandmother did send me a chemistry kit once. I thought it was going to be great fun, but my father didn't think it was a very appropriate gift. His gifts tended toward naval history books, very edifying I'm sure, but not what you'd call fun, for the most part...though some of the battle scenes..."

Malcolm's voice trailed off as he unfolded the last layer of wrapping tissue. "Jon, this is lovely. But what's the occasion?" he asked, as he opened the box and lifted out a small sculpture carved of an unfamiliar blue-grey stone. He recognized the piece as one that he and Jon had admired during an enjoyable few hours spent exploring the city on the planet below.

"Read the card," Jon urged.

Malcolm retrieved a bright red envelope from among the wrappings. After reading its contents, he looked up, a somewhat bemused expression clouding his face. " Be my Valentine? "

"It's Valentine's Day, Malcolm--haven't you ever gotten a valentine?"

"No...not really...not that I recall. I think the last time I even thought about Valentine's Day was probably primary school. There was a valentine exchange in class, but I don't think it counts as a real valentine if everyone gets one from everyone else because it's required..."

"The joys of grade school--some things never seem to change." Jon paused to catch and hold his partner's eyes. "Well, I just wanted to use this as an excuse to tell you again how much you mean to me, Malcolm. I'll admit that I've given and received valentines pretty casually in the past--to family, friends... Hell, I think I've probably even given Trip a tasteless valentine or two as a joke. But never to anyone who was as important to me as you are."

"I understand the valentine. But a gift? Jon, I don't need gifts from you. You're in my life, you love me--what else could I want?"

"I know." Jon lifted the sculpture from Malcolm's lap and ran his hands over its unexpected marriage of angularity and curved surfaces, its rough and smooth textures. "But when we both noticed this in the market the other day, I knew I wanted to go back and buy it. The color of the stone is so unusual, and it seems to shift with the lighting. It looks so much like your eyes! The artist who carved it told me that it represents their culture's symbol for love and unity. Then he warned me that it wasn't a piece to be given as a casual gift. I assured him that it was for someone very important to me, and he seemed pleased at that."

Silence...

Jon had taken Malcolm's hands in his own as he spoke, as he waited for his lover to respond in his own time. He had expected Malcolm to be surprised by the gift, but was unprepared for the trembling he felt through their joined hands. He lifted one hand to Malcolm's face, gently tracing the the curve of his cheek, then drew his love close to his chest to hold that dark head against his heart.

A few moments into the silent embrace, Malcolm lifted his face to meet Jon's eyes, and saw a reflection of his own unshed tears. "I love you, Jonathan Archer," he said quietly. "I've nothing to offer but myself and my love, but then you already know that, and seem to want me anyway."

"Always, Malcolm--your love is more than enough for me. Your love, your friendship and your trust--our life together is so much more than I ever could have imagined. I wasn't even sure I'd ever hear you call me anything but 'Captain' or 'Sir.' I still feel a catch in my heart whenever you use my name."

Jon pulled the younger man back into his arms, letting his hands roam gently across the smooth skin of his lover's strong arms and back. Malcolm's head found its place on Jon's shoulder, his hands threaded into the gold-streaked hair of the man who had come to mean so much to him. Their kiss was long and deep, full of both memory and promise.

When they finally broke the embrace, the tea was long cold, and Malcolm hurried to dress for his shift. "It's okay, Malcolm, you won't need a note for your captain about why you're a few minutes late this morning. But, you go ahead, I'll clean up here and will be sure to clear a path to the lav from the bed!"

On his way out the door, Malcolm brushed Jonathan's lips with the lightest of kisses. "Happy Valentine's Day, love. I'll see you tonight."

Epilogue:

Reaching into his uniform pocket, Malcolm retrieved the little heart-shaped card and reread it, smiling. // Hmmm... "Hunka hunka burnin' love" indeed. I wonder if Commander Tucker knows where I can get my hands on a suitably romantic Valentine for Jonathan by tonight... //

~the end~